


Kriaušis

by unnaturalredhead



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bottom!Will, But Mostly Smut, Empath!Will, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Some Fluff, an annoying amount of description, as if that's not the show itself, top!Hannibal, we started from the bottom and now we're here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 10:32:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5044900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unnaturalredhead/pseuds/unnaturalredhead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will has (another) bad dream. Hannibal comforts him in a new way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kriaušis

Will’s curls, always tight and messy in the mornings, clung to the perspiration on his forehead.  _Another night, another nightmare._  It was one of many recurring nightmares that plagued him since he and Hannibal plunged into the Atlantic. Will was certain that below the black waves and moonlit sea foam, an underwater mountain of antlers awaited to impale him on impact. He imagined himself caught on the thicket of horns, punctured, bleeding, displayed like the first body Hannibal left for him. The crime scene would be gift-wrapped for Jack and Alana to find.

In this nightmare, the plot was always relatively the same, but every version was different in its own grotesque way. Will dropped, alone and in slow motion, towards the sea, the thicket rising out of the black water to greet him. He would hold his hands out to break the fall, but they would never reach, trapped in purgatory between the bluff and his becoming. Sometimes the antlers never breached the roll of the waves, but he could see them below the surface as he fell. Sometimes they grew out of the bluff, the rock giving way to each great crash of brine, antlers lost to the sea just before Will should have hit them. Sometimes, even, Will’s hands did reach, and he was forced to watch the antlers pierce his skin before he shook awake.

This time, though, the nightmare was different. This time, Hannibal fell with him. Hannibal’s hands reached up towards him, just out of reach. His fingers stretched lazily skyward, like Adam reaching towards God. In the same way, Will’s own fingers reached back, extended in desperation like God towards His creation. Just when Will thought they might touch, sparks flying between their hands and through their bodies, the thicket soared into view out of the black of the ocean, engulfing Hannibal’s body. Will watched in slow motion as the bramble of horns, roiling to life, swallowed Hannibal, but not before skewering him, tasting him, consuming him.

Will flipped the sheets off of him, hoping they would air dry before Hannibal noticed and fussed over making things neat again. He sat up, the edge of the bed somehow transformed, for just one second, into the edge of the crumbling bluff. He couldn’t find his breath as his feet reached for the floor, and he sighed with relief and pain when they finally planted. Shaking, he rubbed his face, raking his hands over his hot, damp brow and into his wet hair. A whimper escaped his throat as he tried to steady himself.

Hannibal, of course, couldn’t know what horrors his dreams held. He would reveal them to Hannibal, sometimes, if they shook him to the core. Hannibal always listened intently, halfway between a lover’s sympathy and a psychiatrist’s intrigue, before cradling Will in his arms and calming the world around him. Most times, though, Will just showered, washing away the nightmares, trying to pretend he was alright.

As Will sat head in hands, trembling and clammy with panic, Hannibal watched from the opposite side of the bed. Will hadn’t noticed Hannibal was in the room, but he hadn’t noticed much since waking from his restless slumber. It was only when Will didn’t hear happy clanks from the kitchen, didn’t smell the fragrant wafts of coffee, that it occurred to him that Hannibal might see him at his most shaken.

“You were calling my name last night, Will.” His accent was always more prominent in the morning, and despite being thick with sleep, Hannibal’s voice concealed concern poorly. Will shrunk from the sentence, ashamed, but didn’t respond. He didn’t turn to look at Hannibal, afraid that if he did he would see antlers looming behind his lover, reaching from the dim light of the room. Or, worse yet, coming through him towards Will.

Will buried his face in his hands again, his elbows resting on his quaking knees. Hannibal reached out softly, not at all like Adam reaching for God, and found a home on Will’s sweat soaked shirt. Will twitched at the contact before softening into it.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Hannibal asked, gently moving his thumb across the damp cotton to comfort him. Will shook his head,  _no_.

“Do you want to be alone?”

Will shuddered, shaking his head again. He cleared his throat, finally forcing words out. “It’s the worst one I’ve had, Hannibal.” He didn’t even try to hide the tightness of his throat as he fought not to cry. After a few moments, he stopped fighting, allowing his tears to flow hot down his face. Will cried silently, and Hannibal’s fingers pressed into him in the smallest attempt to strip the nightmare from him.

Hannibal slid across the bed, moving from dunes of Egyptian linen to the cool dampness of turmoil. Hannibal’s face found a home in the crook of Will’s neck, arms reaching around him. For a second, Will expected the embrace not to be his lover’s warm, safe arms, but the sinister reach of the thicket. Will looked away from Hannibal.

“You can’t look at me,” Hannibal observed. He didn’t force Will’s gaze, instead turning his own head to rest on the back of Will’s neck. “What did I do?”

Will grunted something meant to sound like  _that’s not it_ , and he wiped the tears away from his cheeks, only for fresh ones to fall. Another soft whimper left his throat, just before he spoke. “It was the cliff again. You were there.”

If Will had seen Hannibal falling off the cliff in his nightmares before, he had never said anything about it. He surely would have mentioned it though, so Hannibal recognized the significance of this detail. Hannibal knew this nightmare well, having comforted Will from it and its many forms on several occasions; when Will could revisit his dreams, he spared no details. It was cathartic for him. This was different though. Will looked like he just witnessed death, and in a way, he had.

“Dreams have a way of revealing to us our deepest desires and fears,” Hannibal said, still nuzzled against Will’s neck. Will was struck by how this sounded like one of their sessions, and he let the fondness for the familiarity take root within him. Hannibal squeezed Will’s shoulders as he asked, “Was it desire, good Will, or fear?”

“Fear.”

_Both_ , he thought, remembering a time when he would have loved to see Hannibal mounted on a stag’s head. He thought about more recent times when he was the one doing the mounting.

The parallels were astounding, surprising even Will from time to time. Just like the line between Hannibal and himself, the line between sex and murder in his head was blurred to nonexistence. To some extent, every act of violence between them was an act of foreplay, every body left in their wake, a romantic gesture. They both considered sex to be an acceptable alternative to murder and therapy, falling into bed whenever morbid tension arose between them. Will always rutted against Hannibal, eager to show off how powerful he had become, and Hannibal loved to feel his creation dominate him. Hannibal took pleasure from Will’s aggression.

In his becoming, Will had grown ruthless, a mirror of Hannibal reflecting both the brightest and darkest corners of his mind. After a tandem hunt, Will could be particularly brutal to Hannibal, as if replaying the kill. In these instances, Will skipped foreplay, as if the murder was foreplay enough, pushing himself into Hannibal and forcing a mixture of pain and pleasure from the man. It wasn’t uncommon for his hands to end up on Hannibal’s throat, or for Hannibal’s blood to find its way onto his lips. Much more often though, Will was tender, exploring Hannibal’s body in the same way his own mind had been explored, kissing bruises away, healing cuts with his tongue, delivering Hannibal to his own divinity. Either way, it was always intimate. However blurred the line between sex and murder was, it was always intimacy that drove him to it.

Will was scared of himself, balking at the lack of intimacy in watching Hannibal fall to a writhing, violent tangle of antlers. He was scared that, at the end of all things, Will would be powerless to either push Hannibal towards it, or pull him backwards away from it. He feared he would have no control.

Hannibal patiently waited, his cheek pressed to Will’s shirt, for Will to return from deep within his own thoughts. Hannibal listened to Will’s breath, quickened and shallow, his heartbeat, hollow and pounding. It was a familiar sound.

Will finally returned from his thoughts, his voice shaking, but steadier than before. “I couldn’t reach you. I couldn’t do anything. All I could do was watch.”

“You were powerless.”

Will nodded quietly, closing his eyes again. Knowing Hannibal wouldn’t let go, Will fell sideways back onto the bed. The sheets were cool from the fresh air, but still damp. Will was smaller than Hannibal, perfect for wrapping up in loving arms, but today, he was smaller still. He rolled towards Hannibal, nuzzling his face into his lover’s bare chest, savoring the taste of comfort. His hands tentatively grazed Hannibal’s body, somewhere between longing and dread that he would find holes where the thicket had pierced him. He, of course, found none, and felt reassurance wash over him.

Hannibal pressed his lips to Will’s curls. He smelled wonderful, the scent of salt crystallized over the vaguest impression of cedar, snow, and steel. Hannibal recalled, with warm fondness, the first time he caught Will’s natural scent, uninhibited by cheap aftershave. It was intoxicating. It reminded Hannibal of his first kill; it left his head swimming with excitement and heavy, gasping relief. Hannibal breathed deeply, trying to absorb as much of Will as he could.

Hannibal moved his hand to the back of Will’s head, weaving his fingers gently between tousled locks. For the first time that morning, Will looked up at Hannibal’s face, and found it lost in silent admiration. It was the same expression Hannibal had when savoring the first bite of a long awaited meal, or listening to the solemn song of a choir echoing through vaulted ceilings. It was the expression one would have when one’s sincerest prayers drifted towards heaven.

As much as Will loved this sight, especially directed at him, he couldn’t resist breaking Hannibal’s reverie with a kiss. It was hesitant at first, but when Hannibal’s lips met his with the softest, electric passion, he was rendered breathless, desperately inching his face closer to his lover’s. As they kissed, Hannibal rolled to his back, pulling Will with him, coaxing him to take back his lost control.

Will’s hand trembled on Hannibal’s stomach, his breath uneven. “I… I can’t. Not right now.” He pressed his forehead to Hannibal’s chest, defeated, before rolling over. He stared at the ceiling. His head swam, but he knew Hannibal wouldn’t force him away from vulnerability. It occurred to him that it might be cathartic to embrace it instead.

Hannibal stopped. He refused to push Will in these fragile moments after night terrors. He refused to push Will in most circumstances, though, preferring to see what Will would do on his own. Hannibal liked watching him test the proverbial water before diving in headfirst. He liked watching Will construct his own design.

“I don’t want you to stop, though,” Will added, his heart pounding at the idea of remaining in his vulnerable state.

Hannibal looked at him, hesitant, watching Will’s chest rise and fall in heavy anticipation. Will turned his head away from the white of the ceiling, locking eyes with Hannibal. Will’s were full and dark, sincere with glowing desire. Hannibal didn’t move. Will’s words sounded like an invitation, but he awaited confirmation before presuming to know if he was right. Will had never before suggested what Hannibal thought he was suggesting, and he was doubtful he had interpreted the sentence correctly.

“I want you, Hannibal,” Will said, his eyes fixed and unblinking with sincerity. Embers sparked behind his pupils. He swallowed. “Teach me to let go.”

Hannibal felt a thought tug at him, that if he allowed himself to take control of Will he wouldn’t be able to stop until their bedroom was a crime scene, his refrigerator housing the evidence. During the three years Hannibal was imprisoned he had imagined it many times. The prospect of sex during this fantasy was new, and Hannibal feared it would tip the scale. Hunger welled up inside him, his appetite piqued, but he couldn’t decipher if the hunger was literal or metaphorical.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Will,” Hannibal said, his voice low, doubting himself and whether he would maintain control of his actions. He needed Will to know his fear, and he looked on Will’s gentle face, unblinking. Hannibal’s eyes were dark and predatory. Crimson seemed to flash visible from between the fibers of his irises.

Hannibal’s hesitation was comfort enough to Will. Surely, if Hannibal could exercise restraint out of fear of hurting Will, he would continue to restrain himself from whatever nagging fantasies lurked behind his maroon-tinged eyes. “You won’t hurt me, Hannibal, I know you won’t. I can see you.” Will’s eyes sparkled, as if begging Hannibal to agree. It was all he needed to ease his mind.

Hannibal fell towards Will, their lips meeting the voyage halfway. Hannibal expected Will to nibble his lip instinctually, but he was lost in Hannibal’s kiss. It was soft and gentle, and he ran his tongue timidly along Hannibal’s lip. Hannibal gave Will a playful nip, and he jumped out of surprise at the feel of Hannibal’s teeth grazing his lips. Smiling, he grabbed Hannibal’s face, knowing that if he didn’t, Hannibal would stop kissing him to see if it was okay.

Hannibal kissed Will harder, reassured by calloused hands against his morning scruff. Hannibal, feline in his movements, moved himself closer to Will’s body. He stripped away Will’s damp clothes and ran his hands over Will, feeling the raised scars that marked him. Will tugged at Hannibal gently, but it was enough, and Hannibal happily obliged. One of his hands traced the curves of Will’s muscles, followed the pathways of silky hairs that led to Will’s growing arousal. Hannibal ignored it completely, though, venturing further to explore Will’s legs. Will feigned irritation, lifting his hips towards Hannibal, but he loved every tender moment. He reached for one of Hannibal’s hands, and gave a thankful squeeze.

Hannibal kissed down Will’s body, still engulfed in Will’s faint scent, tasting the remnants of salt on his skin. He paused on Will’s chest, lingering an extra moment in the plush hair and firm muscles. His lips grazed Will’s nipple, pert with anticipation, and he kissed it before moving on. Will gasped faintly, and Hannibal smiled.

Each kiss was perfect, but they grew hotter as Hannibal traveled down Will’s stomach. He allowed his tongue to taste Will’s skin, and he took note of how the downy hairs felt on his chin.

Will held his breath as Hannibal hesitated over the long, raised scar across his stomach, but Hannibal couldn’t resist the temptation to skip it, instead planting his lips on the eager tip of Will’s erection. Will hummed delightfully as Hannibal kissed him, his smooth lips teasing Will until he felt twitches of frustration. Hannibal just tasted Will at first, forcing an eager mm out of him, until he was satisfied that Will had been teased enough. He wet a finger on his free hand and let it further explore Will, seeking out its destination deftly. The moment Hannibal found the opening, he didn’t allow himself to hesitate, even though he was unsure he’d be able to reciprocate what Will gave him so many times before.

Hannibal lowered his lips over Will’s erection, now hot and excited, as he found his fingers someplace tight and warm. Will squirmed, feeling, for the first time, Hannibal inside his body instead of his mind, and he let out a low, long moan, though not from sheer pleasure. It wasn’t painful, but it wasn’t comfortable either. It was just new. Their hands were still clasped together, and they gripped each other in tandem.

Hannibal savored Will, eagerly licking and sucking him until Will was trembling with excitement. Each stroke of Hannibal’s eager tongue sent shivers up Will’s spine, tendrils of pleasure creeping up into the dark place where his nightmares stuck. Fear gave way to writhing, desperate lust, and Will’s body surrendered to Hannibal’s gentle touch.

Hannibal knew when Will was ready for more. Maybe it was the adamantine length twitching in his mouth, or a subtle change in scent, but Hannibal didn’t think on it, instinctively adding or removing his fingers from Will’s body until he was a writhing, trembling angel, draped in damp sheets.

Hannibal listened, knowing that at some point he would find a place of magic within Will. He wasn’t sure how it sounded exactly, as when it leapt from Hannibal’s throat, he was always lost in the sensation. He was confident he would know when he found that spot, though, and kept exploring. He was gentle, as if hesitant to take his place of power over Will. He tenderly worked out the tension inside Will while simultaneously coaxing Will’s body to hot, excited longing.

Will did, finally, let out the guttural whine of a man engulfed in sheer bliss when Hannibal’s teeth accidentally grazed the most sensitive part of his penis. Hannibal was afraid he had hurt Will, but a glance up at Will’s face, eyelids fluttering with approval, proved Hannibal wrong. Will combed his free hand through Hannibal’s hair, gently guiding his head lower until Will’s cock pressed against the back of Hannibal’s throat. Hannibal thought he might like to swallow Will whole.

Will’s body was in a state fixed between tension and release. He gave a small thrust into Hannibal’s wanting mouth, and Hannibal curled his fingers inside Will in response, finding a swollen, fleshy place to tease. Will whined, “Oh… oh my-” before a groan rumbled out of his chest and past his lips. This was a spot Will was unaware of before, but he immediately recognized it as the same spot that made Hannibal’s composure crumble between the sheets. He felt his own composure crumbling. He felt his desperate need for control fall to the wayside, lost in appreciation for everything Hannibal was doing to him, for him.

Will tried to speak, but an unintelligible slur of “I… oh, Han- fuck!” fell from his lips instead. Will could feel Hannibal smile around his throbbing cock, no doubt at the word that slipped from him accidentally. It occurred to Will that Hannibal wouldn’t stop, or continue, unless he was encouraged. Maybe it was that he was having fun teasing Will, his fingers curling against the swollen epicenter of pleasure inside Will. Maybe it was that he wanted Will to take control after all, teasing him until he took Hannibal out of frustration. Maybe he was just waiting for Will to reassure him that Will did, in fact, want him to dominate for the first time.

Despite the rolling, vibrant quakes of pleasure ricocheting off of Will’s bones and through his skull, he was desperate for more. His one hand was clenched around Hannibal’s, the other tugging at Hannibal’s now unkempt hair in a desperate attempt for continuation. Hannibal didn’t stop, instead nipping Will’s cock in protest. At the same time, Hannibal pushed in yet another finger and curled them to meet the most sensitive parts of Will.

Will’s hand flew from Hannibal’s head to the sheets, gripping as if to keep himself from falling. He reached desperately for Hannibal’s side table where they kept their lube, just out of Will’s reach. He knew he’d never get close enough without moving away from Hannibal, but he tried anyway, hoping that somehow the bottle would find itself in Will’s eager hand.

“Han-ni-bal,” Will moaned between soft  _uhn_ s, “please… please Hanni- oh! God!” He couldn’t even form the sentence he wanted to say, and it was frustrating. Hannibal pried himself from Will’s length, now twitching and red, and smiled at Will, whose face was flushed and shiny with perspiration.

“What do you want, my dear Will?” Hannibal asked, as if he didn’t know. He just wanted to hear Will say it.

Will groaned, resisting the urge to rock his hips against Hannibal’s hand. “Please…” he started, interrupted by another thrust of Hannibal’s fingers. He whimpered, “Hannibal!  _You’re being rude!_ ” Hannibal’s eyebrows shot up, amused at the sentence he pushed from Will’s perfect lips. “I need you, Hannibal, please…”

As much as Hannibal wanted to tease Will forever, hoping that he’d decide to throw Hannibal down and fuck him hard as punishment for his  _rudeness_ , he couldn’t ignore his own throbbing desperation straining at the fly of his briefs. He had been purposefully neglecting his own erection so he could properly judge every movement he made. As if to spite his analytical nature, the sight of Will on the verge of begging was more than he could take. He parted from Will, hurrying to take off his briefs. Will’s eyes rolled, partly from anticipation, and partly from pleasure, and he gave Hannibal a soft, thankful  _mm_.

Hannibal tossed his briefs aside and found the bottle in his side table. His excitement was tangible, hanging like fog around them, and he nearly pounced back to Will. He kissed Will deeply, leaving them both breathless for a moment. Will was lost in Hannibal’s commanding presence, his body caught beneath Hannibal’s for the first time, even though they only barely touched.

Whatever place of vulnerability Will had found himself clinging to before had disappeared. He didn’t feel vulnerable at all, but whole.

Hannibal slicked himself up, touching himself for the first time that morning. His own touch was mesmerizing, and he couldn’t wait to see what Will’s would be like. He looked at Will, studying his expression.

“I’m ready, Hannibal.” Will’s voice was husky and quiet, nearly a whisper. “I’m yours.”

Hannibal’s heart leapt in his chest as he drooped his hips to meet Will’s, kissing his neck softly as Will traced his hands along Hannibal’s ribs. Hannibal’s cock slid between Will’s curves, finding the opening with little trouble at all. No matter how badly he wanted to stop to admire Will in this moment, Hannibal couldn’t bring himself to, and he slowly slid himself into Will.

Will’s eyes rolled back and his fingers tensed against Hannibal. He seemed so much bigger from the inside, and it was overwhelming. Hannibal was gentle though, moving slowly into Will, allowing Will to adjust before continuing. Will was silent and breathless as Hannibal slid into him, but his heartbeat, fast and hard, pounded as if stuck at the moment of perfection.

Hannibal was lost in Will. He was hot and smooth, and Hannibal panted as the first waves of pleasure rolled through his muscles. Hannibal was glad he waited for Will’s touch on his own cock, and he pulled Will closer to him. He nibbled Will’s shoulder as he raised his hips slowly, poised for another long, slow thrust. Will finally breathed, whining slightly, and he dug his fingernails into Hannibal’s sides. Hannibal grunted, and his hips crashed into Will again.

Each thrust sent sparks flying behind Will’s eyes. It was the deepest kind of pleasure, one that felt like the roots of a tree in full bloom, anchoring Will to Hannibal.

Will’s breath hitched with every thrust, still slow and deliberate, his mouth hanging lazily agape with surprise and pleasure. His rough hands stretched over Hannibal’s ribs, feeling the tight muscles rippling beneath smooth, scarred skin. His thumb found the puckered, shiny reminder of their last night as “free” men, the mark left from a well-aimed bullet. Well-aimed, of course, because it didn’t hit anything vital, but still left a sensitive button for Will to press to send sharp sensations down Hannibal’s spine. Will knew it hurt Hannibal, but only enough for it to be exciting.

Hannibal had been so gentle until this point, slowly exploring Will’s body and sending small ripples of delight into the pit of Will’s stomach. Will jabbed his thumb on the scar, and Hannibal’s hips jerked in response, and Hannibal thrust up into Will’s most sensitive place.

Will whined as Hannibal’s cock rubbed against his prostate. “Oh, Han- oh! Fu-” Will moaned, interrupted by each pulse of overwhelming pleasure. He bit Hannibal’s shoulder, grounding himself, before speaking. “Hannibal, holy sh- oh!” Another thrust. “Is this what this is like for you?”

Hannibal drove his face into Will’s neck, tasting the soft skin behind Will’s ear and breathing in Will’s subtle scent. He whispered, “I can only hope you feel what I do…”

Will was all but writhing underneath Hannibal, and he felt a twinge of pride. He tangled his hands in Will’s curls and pulled their bodies closer, engulfing Will completely. He closed his eyes and let himself get lost in sensation, skin against skin, the taste of salt and saliva, the scent of cedar and steel, and Will wrapped hot and heavy around Hannibal.

Will let himself get lost in the rhythmic rocking of their bodies, not dissimilar to the pendulum swing that too often left him sweating and breathless, though for vastly different reasons. He swallowed at the thought, but a spark of curiosity bounced in his mind. He had always considered his empathy a curse, his mind stuck to people and their darkest thoughts. He wondered if he could use it as a tool of his own pleasure. He let his mind meld with Hannibal’s for just a second, and he gasped at it.

Hannibal’s mind was deafening, a flurry of sensory information being processed, evaluated, and constructed before acted out on Will. Will felt the warm scramble of desire in Hannibal’s stomach mixed with a pang of hunger, mixed with reverent hesitation. Mostly, though, Will heard Hannibal thinking about him, thinking about every move he made, or could make, and whether Will would like it. He felt what Hannibal felt, for just a moment, before being thrown back into his own mind. It was overwhelming to experience all of Hannibal and all of himself all at once, and he yelped at it.

Hannibal stopped at the sound and kissed Will’s neck, breathing a grunt into Will’s ear that sounded like a question.

“You think so loudly,” Will said, his head swimming.

Still kissing at Will, Hannibal gave a soft _mm_ , but didn’t respond.

“Hannibal,” Will said, his voice low as if frowning, “You’re thinking too much.”

“I’m not thinking,” Hannibal protested, tracing his lips over Will’s neck.

“I was just in your head, Hannibal, and-”

“You were in my head?” Hannibal interrupted. He raised his face, their eyes meeting. Hannibal’s were dark and predatory, red velvet in the low light of the room.

Will seemed almost surprised at his own words, “I wanted to see what would happen.” He huffed a brief laugh, and pulled Hannibal into a kiss.

Hannibal kissed him back, smirking in response to Will’s words. He rocked his hips slowly, and Will’s breath hitched, much to Hannibal’s enjoyment. “Good Will, always in control, even when I have you pinned to the bed.”

Hannibal grabbed Will’s wrists and stretched his arms above his head, clasping their hands together as he resumed the rhythmic rocking of his hips. It was harder than before, and Will couldn’t stop a whimper from escaping his lips.

“Oh, Hannibal,” Will whined, his name dripping like honey from Will’s plush, pink lips. “That’s so-”

Hannibal interrupted Will’s praises with a rough kiss, and snapped his hips harder, thrusting up into Will’s prostate, swollen with anticipation. A moan rumbled out from Will’s chest, and tears came to his eyes. Hannibal changed his entire demeanor, shifting from a careful, calculating lover into something nearly feral. He watched Will, observed the pleasure of his own creation rippling under Will’s skin. With a snarl, he bit at Will’s neck, pulling low groans from him with each nip. Each thrust pushed a sound from Will that sounded like the first moment of a scream, and Hannibal could feel himself nearing the precipice.

Between thrusts and bites, Hannibal pieced together a fragmented suggestion, “Will, I’m so close… I want you to feel what you do to me. Get out of your head. Let go.”

Will didn’t even have to think twice, letting his mind melt into Hannibal’s again, finding something entirely different from the first time. It was still, but somehow frenzied, the thick silence of a moment happening too fast, slowed down for savoring. He tried to hold onto his own pleasure, mixing it with Hannibal’s tight, coiled excitement. He could feel when Hannibal was going to snap his hips, and he snapped his own to meet harder, the pit of their stomachs tightening with delight. Will felt Hannibal nearing release, and he met Hannibal’s thrust with his own. Hannibal stroked Will in the perfect spot, and for a brief moment, Will felt everything all at once.

Their shared orgasm hit Will like a punch, his neglected cock shooting opalescent ribbons of come across the downy hairs of his stomach and chest. Tears welled in his eyes, and he groaned loudly. Hannibal’s cock twitched inside Will, each pulse of come pulling whines from Hannibal’s chest, only slightly stifled by the crook of Will’s neck as Hannibal drove his face into him. Hannibal’s entire body shook for a second, and he collapsed, his body pressed against Will’s sticky release.

They didn’t move, exhausted, out of breath, and revelling in the aftershocks of pleasure that shot between them. Hannibal gave Will’s neck the smallest of tender kisses, and Will hummed in response. After a few moments, Hannibal rolled off Will, flopping flat against the tangled sheets, still gasping for his breath. A laugh rolled from him, lilting and melodious, and he turned his face to look at Will.

Will didn’t move, or couldn’t move, staring straight at the ceiling, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, a half smile plastered on his face. He swallowed, and whispered, “I’m going to feel that for the rest of my life, I think.”

“Too rough for you?” Hannibal asked, his lips curled into an amused smirk.

Will shook his head, “No, I mean the part where I felt everything.” He turned his head to meet Hannibal’s gaze. “ _Everything_ , Hannibal. You, me, us, all at once. It was deafening.”

Hannibal laughed, and Will rubbed the tears from his eyes. Hannibal felt a surge of pride, pleased with himself that he could make Will feel so good. He rolled back over to kiss Will.

“It seems this morning has taken a turn for the better,” Hannibal whispered, rubbing a thumb along Will’s scruffy jawline.

Will agreed with a low hum, and nuzzled into Hannibal’s hand. “I could stand to get out of my own head more often.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kriaušis - Lithuanian for "precipice"
> 
> My first finalized Hannigram fic! I finally got around to publishing it on here (no more tumblr read-mores for me!)
> 
> The mention to Adam and God in the beginning is a reference to The Creation of Man on the Sistine Chapel ceiling!


End file.
